Weddings Can Be Reminders
by Baron Munchausen
Summary: Starts with canon...the scene in the Rolls in the village, and goes on from there.
1. Chapter 1

_**As any fan fiction writer will tell you, there are times when you can plan out a story, even a long story, and then happily write each chapter from beginning to end, in order, methodically. That, of course, is the more professional way to do it – when you're in charge of the process.**_

 _ **Then there are times when a plot bunny takes up residence in your head and hops about continually until you write it out.**_

 _ **This is one of those.**_

* * *

He had said that he couldn't bear for her to think that they might 'take up' together again when they couldn't, and both his confession and his discomfort had been genuine. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her by encouraging her, leading her on, letting her know his true feelings…and then have to watch while she became disappointed and disillusioned, while she realised just how old and crippled he was, what a terrible bargain she had in him.

But days had passed since then. The longer he went without seeing her, the more he believed that he'd been an idiot. Had he hurt her? She had not contacted him again. Surely that meant either that she had taken him at his word and forgotten him (which hurt, but was the best for her, he had to face it) OR that she didn't care a fig for him in the first place and all his hopes (hopes he had crushed on a daily basis, only for them to grow back stronger than before) had been built on a deluded misconception of his that such a lovely woman could care for him.

 _At least I have all those lovely memories from before the War_ he thought to himself as he got into the back seat of his car to collect a precious package of books he was having sent down on the London train. _All those wonderful rides in this very Rolls_ …he let his thoughts wander to the most heavenly evening of his life and the drive to York for that blissful concert, how incredibly beautiful she had looked, how sweet and coy she had been, how soft her silk-gloved hand had been on his, how she'd blushed demurely at his compliments, how he'd lost himself in her eyes…

"Lady Edith!"  
It was entirely a coincidence, he told himself, that he had been thinking of her and then there she was as if by magic, just outside the Post Office as he drove past. (The fact that he'd been thinking of her almost constantly had nothing to do with it.) But he shouldn't have called out to her like that. Now she was walking towards the car which Stewart had stopped immediately he'd heard Anthony call out to her.  
"Hello!" she said, her musical tones sounding for all the world as though she was happy to see him.  
"Hello!" he managed, although he sounded like a soppy schoolboy with a huge, uncontrollable crush on his French mistress.  
"What are you doing here?" she smiled.  
"I'm meeting a train, but I'm too early." At least he'd managed to get his voice under control again.  
"Oh. That's unusual for you. You're usually absolutely on time. On. The. Dot!" she laughed, opening the door of the car and stepping in to sit by him. Oh god… His heart rate quickened as she turned slightly to look at him, brushing his knees with hers as she did so.  
"I mustn't hold you up" he squeaked, afraid of what she might say, and what he might do in response.  
"I'm not doing anything" she said, thinking _but I'm so glad to see you. You are the only person in the world who could make me feel anything more than just a wizened old spinster right now_. Anthony was looking at her expectantly, politely…but more than politely, with interest. He really wanted to know how she was.  
"I thought I'd get away from wedding panic." That was truthful, at least.  
"Don't you like weddings?" he asked, with a tinge of something both sympathetic and poignant. She thought back to tea at Locksley the previous week…" _I don't need a wife, I need a nurse_ ". She didn't want to make him sad. She certainly didn't want to hear him say he didn't want her again. So she concentrated on the preparations for Mary's nuptials.  
"Don't be silly. Of course I do. Only, I've talked of clothes and flowers and food and guests until I'm blue in the face."  
"Yes, weddings can be reminders of one's loneliness, can't they?"  
He looked so…so resigned. And he'd expressed exactly, _exactly_ , how she was feeling about all the fuss about Mary. Mary...for whom nothing was too expensive or too much trouble, who had the unstinting love of both her parents and Matthew...and there was 'poor Edith' sitting close to the man she had loved for six years in vain. He'd told her they were only going to be friends. And without him there was nothing in her future, not love, not companionship, only bleakness stretching out for years and years. And he still thought…well, she wasn't sure what he thought, but it was obvious that he didn't feel the same about her, as she did about him.

She couldn't help it. Despite all her upbringing and years of training in decorum, she closed her eyes, bowed her head, and quietly began to weep.

"Sorry, I don't know why I said that. Please, Lady Edith, please don't cry."  
Of course that just made her weep more. How could he be so sensitive and kind, and then in the next moment make her so unhappy?  
"Stewart, drive us down to the end of the village where we won't be seen."  
"Yes, sir."  
Anthony really was at a loss for what to do for best. It was his right hand that was nearest her, so he couldn't offer her any solace without stretching to reach her and that would be noticed by people in the street. He was sure she really wouldn't want to be embarrassed in that manner.  
Stewart parked up behind some trees off the road, well away from any buildings or people. Anthony looked at his pocket watch and came to a decision.  
"Stewart, would you return to the Station Master's Office to collect those books, and then…" he fished a bank note out of his pocketbook "…go to the Grantham Arms and I'll fetch you when we're ready."  
"Very good, sir." Anthony's loyal man looked compassionately at Edith but decided not to mortify the lady any further by offering his sympathy, and left without another word.  
Edith was beginning to be able to compose herself a little, although she felt her resignation to a constant ache of disappointment and melancholy in her life like a stone around her neck. She didn't want to leave her beloved Anthony's car and his dear company painful though it was to know that he didn't return her feelings. But she didn't want to remain there either, when she had made such an embarrassment of herself.  
"My dear" Anthony began, twisting towards her and gently taking her hand in his, "I know you won't really want to confide in me, but I would dearly love to be able to help you if you tell me what is wrong and what I can do."  
When she looked in his eyes, mesmerising as they always were, she also saw genuine care. He hadn't judged her for her loss of control. He hadn't even made any remark that might have contained half-hidden sarcasm like Mary or Granny would have. It made the tears well again, but she blinked them back.  
How much of the truth should she tell him? They lived in the same district, the same village...perhaps she had better be completely honest, to avoid misunderstandings in the future like those in the past.  
"Anthony, when Mary's wedding happens in a few weeks' time, I shall be left as the only unmarried daughter, the one expected to look after my aging parents and to become the maiden aunt to Sybil's and Mary's children. Is it any wonder that 'weddings can reminders of one's loneliness'? Because they certainly do that to me. Especially this one."  
She sighed and looked out of the car, avoiding his eye now that she had got it all out.  
"Oh, Edith, that won't happen to you, I'm absolutely certain of that. There will be some dashing young man with his life ahead of him who has brains and taste enough to know when he's standing in front of a goddess!"  
"A goddess? Oh Anthony, you and your almost Mediaeval sense of chivalry and honour!...which I love so much when you aren't being so exasperating. Do you know how many supposedly eligible young men I knew from before the War who survived it? Five. And that includes you, Matthew who was also wounded, and Larry Grey who bribed his way to serving three years as a Staff Officer fifty miles behind the front lines."  
Anthony's expression was a well of pain and misery. He shut his eyes trying not to see the truth of what she had said, and the fact that, wounded or not, he had returned when so many young men who deserved to had not. He shook his head, unable to face it.  
"But there are still good men around and one of them is bound to discover the last available Grantham beauty. You are too lovely to remain single for long."  
Edith gave a bitter laugh.  
"I'm sorry, Anthony, but you are wrong. In my entire twenty-five years of life, there has only ever been one man, _one man only_ , who gave me anything more than half a glance before pursuing my sisters instead. Only one man made me feel that I was worth his time, or that he actually enjoyed my company, or led me to believe that he thought highly enough of me to contemplate proposing marriage to me...even if he then came to his senses and didn't."  
"No! That isn't what happened, Edith! Please believe me. That day was the most tragic, awful day. I was a fool to let Mary play on my insecurities. I would have proposed to you if that hadn't happened, or if War hadn't been declared."

"But you...you don't want to propose now."  
He was distressed; she could see it in the irregular way he was breathing, the tension in the way he leant towards her, and the anguish etched on his handsome face.  
"It isn't a case of not wanting to, Edith. You are an amazing woman, you deserve better than me. When Downton was a convalescent hospital, you helped look after the officers, yes? Didn't any of them recognise how wonderful you are?"  
"There was one..." Anthony's heart fell with resignation "...but he turned out to be a conman who saw me for what I am: a plain and gullible fool of a dried-up old spinster."

"You are no such thing! You are inspiring, and intelligent, enchanting, and bewitchingly beautiful. You will meet a good man who is worthy of you, and you must not belittle yourself in such a manner. I won't...I won't allow it."

To her shock, Anthony seemed almost...angry with her. She'd never seen him so disturbed as he was now. Well, what he had said had annoyed her too. Hadn't he heard a word she had said in the last five minutes?

"Well, Sir Anthony, we had better agree to disagree, because as far as I'm concerned I have found the man who makes me feel lovely and cherished, who gives me the courage and confidence to achieve more than I thought possible and all those other things you just mentioned. The trouble is he doesn't want me."

"That isn't true, Edith! I do want you! God, how I want you! I just don't deserve you!"

"You...want me?"

"Yes!"

"Forgive me if I can't believe that based on your behaviour towards me recently."

She was just summoning up the courage to leave the car, when she felt a strong, masculine hand expertly slip around her waist and take hold of her back, pulling her bodily towards him. Eyes wide, she saw he had removed his hat, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. He'd removed his right arm from its sling. His own eyes were hard as steel, determined, possessed. He held her tight, bent down and kissed her...hard.


	2. Chapter 2

_She was just summoning up the courage to leave the car, when she felt a strong, masculine hand expertly slip around her waist and take hold of her back, pulling her bodily towards him. Eyes wide, she saw he had removed his hat, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. He'd removed his right arm from its sling. His own eyes were hard as steel, determined, possessed. He held her tight, bent down and kissed her, hard._

...

She was overwhelmed with the shock of it all, both the suddenness of his advances, and the fact that he had made advances at all. But his eyes were closed, and his lips were were worshipping hers with real passion. He wasn't just kissing her out of pity. He really meant it. He really wanted her! She closed her eyes and fell into the blissful madness with him.

When he felt her responding to him, it electrified Anthony so much that his kisses became even more wildly abandoned. To be honest, he had rather expected her to slap his face especially after his ridiculous attempt to put her off over tea at Locksley. But just now she had been so wretchedly, miserably resigned to never finding love that he'd been seized with an imperative need to prove her wrong. To his amazement she matched his unbridled pace. This was becoming all too wonderfully dangerous. The state he was in, if he didn't control his mad desire for this woman, he could easily find himself making love to her ( _in the back of his car! What a ridiculous idea! No one would ever do something so uncomfortable!_ ) and then all would be lost.

She would think him a cad, and she'd be right. He might get her into trouble...in the family way, and then Robert Crawley would be quite justified if he marched them both up the aisle of Downton Church at the point of a shotgun. Worse still, Edith would then be married to a crippled old man whom she would blame for ruining her life.

No, having her like that would certainly not be the action of a gentleman. (Despite being exactly what he most longed for at that moment.)

Well, he told himself, neither was kissing a girl with such immoderation in the back seat of a Rolls the action of a gentleman…but she needed it. And, God help him, so did he.

With more self-control than he knew he had, he slowed his pace until they were languidly luxuriating in their shared, open-mouthed kiss, giving and taking joy in equal measure. He let a few more minutes escape them before he brought the kiss to a soft end, lifted his mouth from hers and found himself gazing into her happy but incredulous eyes. He didn't release her from his embrace, not yet, he just couldn't.

If anything, just sitting there with her in his arm, his mouth not two inches away from hers, both of them breathless with feeling so much...it was almost as erotic as kissing. He searched her eyes, wondering if she felt the same fear, and shame, and elation as he did. But all he saw was… _love!_

" _Edith…_ "

He couldn't think of anything else to say, except the one thing he most wanted to say, and the one question he most wanted to ask.

" _I lo-_ "

"Sir! Sir!"

Stewart was at the window, very pointedly not looking into the car, but panting from running back from the village carrying a heavy parcel of books.

Anthony and Edith sprang apart rather awkwardly. Edith knocked her head slightly on the car struts and uttered a mumbled "Ow!"; Anthony trod on his forgotten hat.

"What is it, Stewart?" he asked as levelly as he could.

"I'm sorry, sir, m'lady, but I've just seen the Dowager Countess walking through the village with Mrs Crawley. They saw your car, m'lady, and I believe they are now looking around for you. I thought you should know as soon as possible."

"Oh, good grief!" Edith flustered, trying to get out of the car as quickly as she could. "Thank you, Stewart!"

Anthony laid a hand on her arm.

"We can get you back to the village quicker in the car. Stewart, would you drive us to the north side of the church please?" He turned back to Edith. "You should be able to skirt around the churchyard from there, and we should not be seen."

"Yes, yes, thank you" she nodded, impressed by Anthony's ability to think clearly in a tight spot. But, of course, in the War he'd been a Major hadn't he? She was sure that he must have been in tighter spots than this. His courage was contagious. With this man at her side, she felt there was nothing she couldn't face.

She held onto his hand as Stewart turned the car around and skillfully wove through the back lanes of Downton village to the far side of the church.

Anthony brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, then nodded her to go. After a long, tense pause he and Stewart heard her voice.

"Granny! How nice to see you out for a walk."

"Whatever are you doing there, child?"

"I was just having a look over Lavinia's grave...to make sure the weeds aren't taking over. I'm sure she'd like to be neat and tidy for Matthew's wedding, don't you?"

Lady Grantham was silent, but Mrs Crawley was not.

"That's a very thoughtful thing to do, my dear. Well done!"

The voices faded away as they walked up the High Street, as Anthony breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Well done, Stewart! There will be something extra in your salary this month."

"That's very good of you, sir, but I shouldn't like anything _untoward_ to happen to you or Lady Edith."

"God bless you, Stewart."

* * *

…

Edith's thoughts and feelings were scattered for the rest of the day. And the day after. And the day after that. And all the nights too...well, she thought she might run mad with it all. He had insisted that she had to give up on him. Of course she wasn't going to, but all her intentions to explain to him and convince him, calmly and logically, why he was the best man for her had dissolved into tears in the scolding unfairness between her inadequacy and Mary's perfection. Instead of continuing to offer her polite, soothing platitudes, he had told her with greater and greater passion and urgency first that he hoped some deserving man would love her one day and then he'd confessed the underlying truth that he wanted to be that man. She was sure his actions that day were not the out-of-character attempts at consolation of the normally mild, proper (and rather awkward) Sir Anthony Strallan, Bart., but evidence that his defences had finally crumbled. He had, at last, given in to his feelings for her.

She was sure of it.

Totally sure.

Anthony was so good and honourable, he wouldn't kiss a girl like that and then not say anything ever again.

He wouldn't just forget about it.

Would he?

…

There was a letter waiting for her the next morning at breakfast. She put it in her pocket and, though quiet, she made it through the meal without attracting undue attention. Once safely back in her room, her quivering fingers opened it, and she read with equal parts hope and dread.

 _My dearest, darling Edith,_

 _I ought to apologise for having abused your trust and insulted you so blatantly. But the truth is that I cannot bring myself to regret a single moment, and I so very much hope you don't either. I ashamed to say that I have dreamt of something like that happening ever since that lovely summer of 1914, but I am not ashamed to say that it was only thoughts of you that got me through the War._

 _Twice now, I have been stopped by your family's interference from asking you a question. I will not be stopped a third time._

 _But if I have over-estimated my importance to you, that is if, now we have kissed, you have realised the reality of a future with me, then please, tell me, and tell me gently. Until I know how you wish to proceed, I will not force my presence on you. I want to give you time to think, and to be truly sure of what it is you want. If you do want to see me, call, and I will joyfully run to you._

 _Yours,_

 _I am yours, totally and forever,_

 _Anthony_

She wept happy tears. She thought about just driving down to Locksley right now, and asking him to seduce her in his library. Yet, she held back. Despite his passionate words, she knew that he was, in reality, still bound by the rigours and expectations of their class far more than she was, and she was the most conservative of her sisters. He had been pushed to his limit by her sadness when he kissed her. She would not force him beyond where he was comfortable again. They would do this properly. There was to be a dinner at Downton Abbey to celebrate the upcoming wedding the day after tomorrow. She would speak to Mrs Hughes. Surely a friend and neighbour could be fitted in?

* * *

…

As Stewart drove him home from the village on that day, Anthony wanted to whoop with joy, and to curse himself with shame for his behaviour, all at once. He shouldn't have kissed her like that. He had almost got her into serious trouble with the Dowager Lady Grantham who would have given Edith a right Inquisition if she hadn't been able to find her in the village. Was that a warning sign? Was Providence telling him that he should leave Edith alone as he had intended when he first returned from France with a dead arm and a soul equally as dead, he thought? Yet Edith had revived him, giving him back his life. And everything else Edith had told him was true too. There were fewer young men around now. God, how he hated the War and its aftermath! If there had been no suitors for Edith before, when she first 'came out', when she was of a more 'normal' marriageable age, it was natural for her to expect that there would not be any in the future. Perhaps...perhaps he really was good for her. He would do anything to ensure her happiness. That went without saying.

His internal dialogue continued that evening, that night, the day after, the night after that. Stewart was getting worried about his lack of sleep. Anthony could see him watching to see whether any of the other symptoms of shell shock were also recurring. Finally, the loyal butler could stand it no more.

"Sir, I do not wish to overstep my remit, but you have not been yourself since we met Lady Edith in the village."

"You are not overstepping the mark, Stewart, and, as usual, you are completely correct. The thing is...now...now, I actually believe that she may have genuine feelings for me."

"That was certainly true before you went to France, sir. Lady Edith strikes me as a lady whose affections, once won, would be constant and true."

"But would she not be throwing her life away by choosing me? I'm crippled, and I have twenty or more years on her. In time she really would be more of a nurse than a wife, and then she'll be made a young widow and…"

"You of all people should know not to speculate about the future, sir."

"No. No, you're right, Stewart. I just…"

Stewart waited patiently for the rest of the sentence, which never came.

"If I might make so bold, sir, why don't you write to her? Say exactly what you want to say without fear of being interrupted."

"Yes." Anthony straightened his shoulders as he made for the desk in his library. "Yes, I will. Thank you Stewart."

"You're very welcome, sir." As he tidied the room he added in his head _Perhaps Lady Edith will stop you becoming ever more awkward, and eccentric, and lonely, and sad, and just a little bit difficult to serve._

…


	3. Chapter 3

_**With many apologies for my tardiness. Better late than never.**_

 _ **And on that subject, has anyone else, apart from me and Lady Kmby noticed some stories disappearing? I just want to go public to state that I think that's such a shame. Leave FFnet if you must, but please let us continue reading the rather magnificent canon of stories the Andith Community has built up. We only have each other and this body of work, after all.**_

* * *

.

When the invitation to dine at Downton arrived, Anthony was thrilled. He began planning how to phrase the question, the big question, in his head, just as he had the day before that garden party in 1914. He started pacing the corridors of Locksley, at one point walking in on Stewart as he was checking that his master's white tie and tails were still perfect after some time in the wardrobe. That formal dinner wear reminded him of other formalities. Anthony began wondering how he was going to broach the subject with Robert if Edith accepted him… _if Edith accepted him, which she still might not_. How could you convince a man that that you loved his daughter with all your heart when that heart was in an old and broken body? Or that you could make her happy, when you didn't really believe that yourself? In fact, what, precisely, was it going to take to convince him, once and for all, that age didn't matter as long as you were made for each other and happy? Edith certainly believed that and that was what mattered most. How could he persuade himself that a crippled arm was not such an awful hurdle to overcome in a marriage compared to wounds endured by many of his comrades from France? After all, it was even easier if one had a house, a title, land, money, and servants?

* * *

…

He'd almost convinced himself by the time he was in his car being driven towards dinner at Downton. Then, as he walked through the magnificent Great Hall and into the Drawing Room, the nerves were beginning to fight back. A footman announced his arrival, another offered him a drink, some sort of cocktail, which he felt he needed, and then he caught sight of her. All other sounds and everyone else faded away, as his courage skyrocketed, fuelled by her. Dressed in dusky peach with a neckline only just the right side of acceptable, and smiling at him, shyly, joyfully, seductively (all at once; however did she do that?), he knew he would give anything, fight anybody to be with her and make her happy.

But someone was talking to him, he realised. Mrs Crawley had been complimenting him on how well he was coping. He couldn't recall the details. He was struggling for something polite to say, when Edith rescued him, the darling girl.

"He doesn't need help at all, do you? He won't let me do anything!"

He smiled.

"Mustn't be a nuisance, you know." He looked from Mrs Crawley back to Edith thinking how very domestic this exchange had become, like a lady enquiring after her cousin and her cousin's… _husband_. His breath hitched. It was frightening how natural it all seemed, despite the years apart.

"Are you coming to the wedding?" Mrs Crawley asked.

 _It depends whether I am engaged to Edith at that point, or if she's come to her senses and sent me packing._

He went to answer Mrs Crawley, but Edith beat him to it.

"Of course." Edith was looking at him, her eyes expressing two things about her that he loved: vulnerability and defiance.

He gazed back, not really caring what the older lady was thinking of him.

"Well...if you really want me" he whispered, longing for her answer and fearing it.

She smiled, suddenly confident.

"I do. I really do."

Isobel looked between the two of them, and it suddenly dawned on her what she was witnessing. She quietly stepped back a little giving them space, but not so much that anyone else would feel justified in butting into their conversation. Matthew and Mary's courtship had hardly gone smoothly, but at least no one was actively working against them. These two would need as much help as they could muster to get past Robert…and Violet.

"You look very nice. Have you done something jolly with your hair?"

He was rewarded with one of her shy but dazzling smiles as her fervent wish that he would notice was granted, and he wanted to bask in that smile forever. So it was almost a miracle that he saw Larry Grey's furtive manoeuvre with the glasses behind Edith's back, although he didn't see exactly what it was that Larry had done.

"I say, what the devil?"

But right then Carson announced that dinner was served, and Edith took his good arm, choosing to walk into the dining room with him, and the incident was pushed to the back of his mind.

Edith's sweet smiles from the other end of a packed table distracted him further until the raised voices of Mr Branson and Mr Crawley contending with the clumsy apologies of Lord Merton were such that they could not be ignored. Anthony heard Robert and his mother making insulting comments about the young Irishman, which he found distasteful and offensive considering that he was now related to them. Could they not see that Tom needed support and acceptance from his wife's family? But it was Larry's smirk that enabled Anthony to put all the pieces together.

"Well, wait a minute. This was down to you, wasn't it?

Anthony's anger stopped him from realising that he was challenging a Viscount, a man ranking much higher in the aristocracy than him…and also much younger should he choose to accept the challenge. But like all bullies, Larry was also a coward.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. I saw you. You put something in his drink, didn't you? Just before we came in."

Sybil immediately challenged Larry herself, with her usual bravery.

"That's not true, is it, Larry?"

Without giving Larry a chance to deny it, Edith added "What a beastly thing to do."

Fortunately, Larry's reaction was as clear as any admission of guilt.

"Oh, come on, Edith. That's not like you. You could always take a joke."

There were some more heated words from around the table, but Anthony watched Edith's face then. She had known what she was doing. She knew Larry well enough to know he would walk into her trap and prove his guilt, exonerating Anthony.

When Larry topped his insults by calling Tom a "grubby little chauffeur chap", Lord Merton made a brave and gracious apology for his son. Mr Crawley appointed Mr Branson as his Best Man, and Sybil took her husband upstairs to recover.

And all the while, Edith and Anthony were looking into each other's eyes, seriously and steadily.

The ladies hastened to go through to the Drawing Room, and the remaining men kept to safe topics until Larry, with rare embarrassment, excused himself and went home. Conversation directly turned to the events of the evening with considerable praise for Matthew who was firm that they thank Sir Anthony too.

Anthony shied from it, but Matthew proposed a toast to him and Anthony was surprised to see all the company raise their glasses, even Robert.

Anthony thanked them with modesty, but he was thinking that perhaps, tonight, thanks to what had happened, Robert might consider him deserving of Edith.

He excused himself from the third round of brandies, scribbled a note and asked one of the footmen to take it to Lady Edith, and stood in the shadows of the Great Hall, waiting…waiting.

Would she come?

The door to the Drawing Room opened and Carson came out to refill the coffee pot.

Waiting…waiting.

The door clicked open again, and it was her.

She let the door close behind her, scanning the room.

"Edith!" he whispered loudly, "here!"

Her frown was replaced by a beaming smile as she hurried over to him.

"That was rather marvellous of you...to expose Larry Grey like that. You saved the day, really."

How delicious it was to be praised by her!

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. Matthew saved the day."

"No, it was you."

He smiled modestly at her as he basked in her approval, and her own heart leapt. She knew he was clever, and kind, and honourable, and now she had seen him be brave, risking his reputation to defend Tom, and untitled commoner, against a Viscount and the son of a peer. How could she ever deserve such a man?

"I think what you did tonight was wonderful…brave and virtuous and…and right!" She bowed her head.

"I'm sorry my family is so prone to scandal. My brothers-in-law are both a bit…unconventional."

He raised her chin gently with one finger, to look at him.

"I think they are both good-hearted and extraordinary in their own ways."

She smiled in relief at his reaction.

"Yes, Tom's very passionate about Irish Independence."

"He has every right to be. It is when political protest spills over into violence that the line between right and wrong becomes blurred."

Good grief! He had had the full intention of proposing to her, and now he found himself discussing Home Rule with her instead.

He took a step nearer to her.

"If you are trying to put me off with your…idiosyncratic relatives, I'm afraid nothing you can mention will make me think less of you."

"Not even Granny?" he suggested cheekily.

He pretended to frown.

"A tall order…but one I will lay into with all my courage!"

He became serious again and went down on one knee.

"I hope you know that I would do anything for you, my sweet darling. Would you consider taking me for your husband?"

She put her hand to her mouth. He'd asked! After all these years, he'd finally asked!

"Yes, of course! It would make me so very, very happy!"

"And me, my love. Oh heavens, yes!"

He rose and pulled a small box from his tail coat.

"This was the ring I had made for you in 1914. It may not be quite right now, but…"

He gave her the box and motioned her to open it. Inside was a gold band set with one large diamond with smaller diamonds and emeralds alternating down the shoulders.

"Oh, Anthony!"

He took the ring from its box, asked her to rest her left hand on his right in its sling. He then placed the ring delicately on her finger.

"It's so beautiful!"

"Not as lovely as its wearer."

She blushed charmingly at that, she was so devastatingly enchanting.

When he proudly offered her his good arm to take her through to the Drawing Room, she placed her hand on it and looked up at him with that nervous but brave look that he so loved.

"Anthony, do it properly…please."

At his confused look, she clarified, "Kiss me again, just once, please."

And since he could refuse her nothing he gently caressed her cheek with his good hand and made all his dreams of the last six years reality once more. His last coherent thought was that his now fiancée really must have cast a spell on him to convince him to abandon proper standards of behaviour as easily as she did. Her lips were so delicious, her hands on his chest made him feel as powerful as a giant…more…he needed more…

"What in God's name?" shouted Robert behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Oh, you are all such darlings, making me feel welcome again! Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed. I know I left you on a cliffhanger, so please forgive the shorter chapter this time, just to give you a flavour of where we are going..._**

 ** _Bless you all._**

* * *

...

" _Kiss me again, just once, please."_

 _And since he could refuse her nothing he did. Her lips were so delicious, her hands on his chest made him feel as powerful as a giant…more…he needed more…_

" _What in God's name?" shouted Robert behind them._

…

Robert's voice froze Anthony's heart. He had known kissing Edith like that was most certainly _not_ proper behaviour. But she had asked for a kiss. And he loved her so. And they were now engaged to be married. Surely one kiss wasn't _that_ bad?

He turned round to face the Earl, holding himself very straight and tall, to stand quite pointedly between Edith and her father's wrath. She sensed this, and wasn't having any of it, coming round Anthony's left side to hold his good hand and face the oncoming storm with him.

Robert had been leading the gentlemen out of the dining room back to the drawing room to join the ladies for coffee when he had seen his middle daughter and Anthony locked in a very passionate embrace. Most of the men were milling about looking at Anthony and Edith, and Robert, and each other in bewilderment. The ladies were now all coming out into the hall joining the men to see what all the fuss was about.

"Well?" Robert bellowed at Anthony.

"Papa, we…" Edith began, only to be cut off by her father.

"Be quiet. I will deal with you later."

Although he hated to see Edith belittled in that manner, Anthony squeezed Edith's hand, took a deep breath and replied as levelly as he could.

"Lord Grantham, I apologise if I have caused any embarrassment by being overwhelmed with joy…but Lady Edith has just accepted my proposal of marriage."

Edith heard, rather than saw, the reactions among the crowd. Cora gasped, Edith thought, with pleased approval. Mary just gasped with shock. Matthew nodded, smiling as though a puzzle he had been trying to work out had just slotted into place. Isobel sighed with clear appreciation of the romance, but Violet wasn't going to let this further upset this evening go unremarked.

"Was _all_ the wine drugged this evening? Or is it something in the water, perhaps?"

"I think it's lovely. Another wedding!" Isobel sidestepped the Dowager Countesses acid taunt.

"Don't be ridiculous. He's totally unsuitable" Violet responded, suddenly more serious.

"Yes, you are totally unsuitable, Sir Anthony. This evening has already caused far too much distress and anxiety, so I trust we shall speak no more of this and return to normal…as best we can" stated Robert turning to enter the drawing room. But Anthony quickly strode over, so that he could speak quietly to him.

"Grantham, my proposal and Edith's acceptance are not something stirred up by the drama of this evening. We have thought long and with difficulty about whether our hearts were leading us astray, and concluded that they were not. We have waited over six years to find the right way through this, only to be ambushed once again by bad luck. Please. Please don't cast more hurt on us than we have already endured."

Robert, distressed by events steering a course away from his control once more, murmured, his voice just under control.

"Strallan, this is not the time. I think it might be best if you left, mmm?"

Anthony looked at Edith's face etched with worry.

"Out of respect for you and your family, I will withdraw, but only as far as the Library. I will wait there to discuss the matter with you when we are both calmer."

He drew Edith's hand up and kissed it, looked deeply into her eyes, mouthed "I love you" to her, and walked over to the Library.

Edith stood alone as people milled past her to return to the drawing room and their coffee. She didn't know what to do for best. Should she return to the party and play her part, riding the storm as she would expect her grandmother would. Or not go in because her father might think she was being shameless. Should she join Anthony? That's what she wanted to do, but would it make everything worse?

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"My darling, I know you have not had the best of luck, but Sir Anthony…do I understand that he has been loyal and faithful…for six years?"

"Yes Mama. And I know he's older than me, and wounded, and…and all of the other objections Papa will throw at us. But we've faced them all, worried about them all, including what you and Papa and Granny and everyone would think about us. And although it makes a difference…we'd be fools not to acknowledge reality…it can't outweigh what we feel for each other…we…we love one another."

"I could see that, just now, facing your father. Sir Anthony sets great store by doing things properly and with decorum, but you have a livening influence on him I think!"

Edith looked down and smiled.

"He makes me feel…whole. Does that sound silly, Mama?"

"No, my darling girl. That is how it should feel. I'm so happy for you that you and he have finally got things sorted out. The only thing left is to bring your father and grandmother round, but nothing's impossible."

With a hug, Cora told Edith to find somewhere to wait and not worry about the party.

* * *

…

"Robert, might I have a word?"

"What is it, Matthew?"

Robert stirred the coffee he'd just poured, wishing it were something a bit stronger.

"I'm sure you must have your reasons for taking against Sir Anthony, but I'm dashed if I can see it."

"He's a quarter of a century too old, for a start! How could you not see that?"

"It doesn't seem to bother Edith. She's been keen on him for years. Perhaps it just doesn't bother her. If that's the only thing…"

"And he's a cripple. I want a young man, a whole man, for my last remaining daughter. Someone like you, Matthew!"

"I understand your desire to do your best for your girls, Robert. I really do. But…can't you see? Anthony _is_ like me. He's more like the man I wish I were, the man I'd like to be for Mary. He's rich, titled…in jolly good shape for his age…doesn't let his war wound stop his life…I happen to know that he got that wound doing something rather…well, amazingly brave…through old Army friends…It's not my place to tell you, yet I don't think he would ever tell anyone that he may have lost the use of his arm that day, but he gained the undying loyalty of his brigade…and a DSO."

"What?!" Robert had been listening with increasing impatience…which Matthew had just flattened. "I…I didn't know."

"There's more to that story, more even than I know, but that's the sort of man you want for your daughter, isn't it? He's a good man…a traditional choice. He would be an ally for you within the family, someone who can fit in immediately…unlike Tom and me!...but he'd be an ally for us too. Think about it."

Matthew moved away, and Cora watched him go as she had been watching him for the last five minutes. She let her husband sip his coffee alone for a while before approaching him. He looked up and though neither said a word, they knew what the other was thinking.

"Would I be foolishly lenient letting her choose Strallan? Isn't she signing herself into boredom and drudgery?"

"If she is, it's her choice. She's twenty five, Robert, not the nineteen-year-old who first fell for him. But, no, since you ask, I don't think their marriage would be anything like that. She has brightened his life, he's forward-thinking, they're both slightly out of step with everyone around them except each other…they are both 'old souls'. They may not have the luxury of growing old together, but they know that. But I think that they will _grow_ together…if we let them."

"My mother won't like it."

"That's all right, darling. She's not marrying him!"

With a wicked smirk, Cora left him to his thoughts as she began saying good night to the guests.


	5. Chapter 5

_**I'm so sorry for such a long delay. We had three family bereavements on three consecutive days, including my last two remaining aunts (one of whom worked at Bletchley Park during the war!). It's been a difficult few months. Thank you all so much for thinking of me, especially Ladies Spotted Horse, Thyme, and Kmby67 for keeping my spirits up with PMs. Let us all hope for a happier, easier summer.**_

* * *

.

He stood in the darkened library, staring blindly at the books. He heard the party continue in the distance, then become muted as the guests melted away to their homes, taking their gossip of the evening away with them.

Time passed.

The door opened and admitted Carson, carrying a tray.

"Sir Anthony, as you didn't make it to the Drawing Room, may I offer you some coffee here?"

"That's very thoughtful of you, thank you, Carson."

The butler poured out a cupful and said "It's quite strong, but perhaps you might like a drop of something in it to make it a bit stronger?" He held a hip flask over the cup awaiting Anthony's answer.

 _God bless the man._

"You are a Godsend, Carson."

"Not that I believe you need Dutch courage to face his lordship."

"But it can't hurt. Thank you."

Anthony took the cup and raised it.

"To Lady Edith, may we all agree on what is in _her_ best interests."

"Indeed" replied Carson approvingly. "Now, I must see to the staff. His lordship will be with you in a moment."

Anthony sipped the coffee fortified with brandy, looked at it, then downed the rest in one.

 _She's agreed to marry you. She asked you to kiss her. She...really likes you. Nothing Robert can say will change that. Be strong…for her sake._

The door opened again, faster, with more purpose. Not how a servant opens a door. Anthony turned to see Robert close the door and then acknowledge him.

"Anthony."

"Robert."

The two tall men in evening dress regarded each other.

"Do we really need to have this conversation, Anthony?"

"I love her. I believe that she loves me, though God knows why. If you oppose the match then, yes, we need to discuss it."

"You're old enough for her to be _your_ daughter!" Robert paced.

"Don't I know it! Robert, I've been fighting myself about this for six years now, but my feelings haven't changed. Amazingly, her feelings haven't changed either. If we put it off, _again_ , aren't we just wasting time when we might have precious little of it left?"

Robert was silent for a moment, but when he spoke it was in a controlled and even tone.

"If I withhold my blessing, what will you do?"

"I…" Anthony breathed deeply, tried again. "If Edith wishes to marry even without your blessing, that is what we will do. But…"

"Yes?"

"I cannot deny that I will feel uneasy doing it."

Another pause.

"I spoke to Edith just now before I came in. When I asked her that same question she answered it the same way. She would marry you even without my blessing but it would make her sad. I don't particularly like making my daughters sad, especially for a reason like this that should only be the business of the people involved."

The baronet held his breath, waiting for the earl's next words.

"Anthony, we've known each other all our lives. I've regarded you as a very close cousin or, well, almost as a brother. It will take time for me to see you as my son-in-law, but I suppose that's my problem."

"Oh my…oh…you…you will?"

"Yes, I give you both my blessing. And may God and my mother have mercy on me!"

"Oh Robert, thank you, thank you!" Anthony clasped Robert's hand and shook it warmly. "You know, Robert, I never dreamed you would be my father-in-law. Between ourselves perhaps we could agree to ignore all of that?"

"Absolutely! Aren't families strange? Especially mine it would seem…"

* * *

.

The Great Hall seemed ridiculously empty after all the guests had left. Apart from one or two footmen scurrying around, and the occasional glimpse of Carson or Mrs Hughes, Edith was alone in the large room, idly noticing what activity there was, keenly aware of what she could not see. Papa had gone into the Library a little while before. She'd heard nothing from inside: no shouting, no sounds of blows being exchanged, no calls for help. The Hall seemed bigger than it usually was, almost as big as it had seemed when she was quite a small child when the beams up to the roof lights felt as though they had been there since the Conqueror's time, watching, judging.

The door to the Library swung open. Her father walked out looking around.

"Papa?"

"My darling girl."

She looked at him, anticipation and pain etched on her face.

"We'd better set a date."

Edith's face froze as she stared at her father, then broke into an incredulous smile, catching her breath, tears beginning, hugging him.

"Oh Papa!"

"There, there. I must go and tell your mother. He's waiting in the Library for you. Don't keep him here too long, will you? We'll all need clear heads tomorrow."

* * *

.

Cora was in bed reading, waiting. When Robert entered she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, I gave them my blessing" he confirmed.

"Oh wonderful! I'm sure they will be very happy."

"Yes, but for how long?"

"That is not ours to reason, Robert. _Che sera, sera_."

"I suppose you're right."

He took off his dressing gown and joined her.

"She really loves him you know" Cora murmured.

"And he really loves her. He was willing to throw away my…our friendship for her sake. He didn't want to, but he was prepared to do so."

"He's a good man. A good choice."

"Mmm…Matthew said that he was wounded…his arm, you know…in some mission...for which he was decorated."

"Really? He kept that very quiet."

"In my experience the truly brave men often do."

"He survived that, Robert, when many men would have given up. He returned to his place at Locksley and continued in his duties."

"Yes…"

"And his father lived to ninety-three."

"Yes, that's true."

"And Sir Philip was fifty-six when Anthony was born."

Robert stopped in the middle of turning off the bedside light and just stared at her.

"Good grief, you're right."

"So according to that precedent, they might be giving us grandchildren for the next ten years...maybe more."

"Oh. My. God."

* * *

.

Edith could only just stop herself from running into the Library. Anthony was sitting on one of the divans, but stood quickly when he saw her.

"Well, my dear, I trust you are very sure about this, because it appears that we are really going to go through with it."

"Of course I'm sure, Anthony! Haven't you heard a word I've said over the last few weeks?"

He smiled at her apologetically.

"I just can't believe it."

"Neither can I. However did you persuade Papa?"

"I'm not sure that it was me who convinced him. He seemed won over when he came in here. I wonder what happened out there?"

"I don't know. I've been waiting outside in the Hall. Mrs Hughes brought me coffee!"

"Carson brought me some coffee in here, which was kind of him. He even put a tot of brandy in it for me."

"Well it's nice to know they're on our side. Never underestimate the power of Mrs Hughes and Carson!"

"No. Certainly not." His posture was uncomfortable as he walked towards her awkwardly.

"Edith, there…there's something you ought to know before we go any further."

She paled slightly but held her ground.

"What? What is it?"

"My arm…it isn't…it's not the only wound I received in France."

To his relief, she was silently gazing into his eyes with concern, allowing him the space and attention he needed.

"The things I saw there…the actions I had to carry out…it…they haunt me still. I have nightmares…and…"

"Shell-shock. You have shell-shock? Yes?"

He nodded. She came up to him and put her hands gently, reassuringly on his, as she would calm a frightened puppy.

"We cared for some shell-shocked officers here during the war. I know enough to realise that it is different for each man. But you must understand I don't love you despite your sometimes needing to be looked after. I just love you. I loved you before the war when you were the only person who regarded me seriously and who made me feel valued, and I love you now, so very much, for the same reason and lots of others. And one of them is because you make me feel needed and wanted. I'd love you if you had returned unscathed, and I'd love you if you had lost limbs, or your sight, or any of the horrible wounds I saw. I...just love you."

He held her hand silently, not able to speak. She lovingly put her hand to his cheek, and he put his hand over hers, caressing her fingers. She reached up to him and kissed the corner of his mouth. He didn't think. He caught her with a frantic, tearful need, and she responded.

* * *

.

Mrs Hughes went up to the front lobby, concerned. She found Mr Carson sitting on the night footman's stool, holding Sir Anthony's coat.

"Good gracious! Are they still in there?"

"Yes, they are. I don't blame Lady Edith, but Sir Anthony is hardly experiencing Love's Young Dream for the first time. You might expect him to be a little more restrained."

"Och, Mr Carson, don't be so hard on the man! He's been restrained since before the war. Let him take his joy for a moment."

"They've been in there for twenty minutes! And I, for one, should like to retire to bed!"

As though on cue, Sir Anthony and Lady Edith emerged from the Library, said a very proper goodnight in front of the butler and housekeeper whom they thanked and to whom they apologised for their tardiness, and Sir Anthony left.


	6. Chapter 6

_A few minutes later..._

* * *

 _._

"I believe congratulations are in order, Sir."

In the dark Rolls, on the way home to Locksley, Anthony could only just discern Stewart's broad grin lighting up the front seat.

"Thank you, Stewart. From that can I assume that all the evening's entertaining events have been reported and discussed at length below stairs?"

"Oh yes indeed, Sir. I must tell you that we were all very impressed by your calling The Hon. Mr Gray out, Sir. Mr Gray's chauffeur, in particular, was enormously appreciative of your actions."

Anthony scowled with bemusement.

"Whyever should he appreciate my challenging his master?"

"I am informed that Mr Gray is...a man who does not treat his staff well, Sir."

"That sounds like an understatement, Stewart."

"It is. Andrew, the chauffeur, said that if it were within his power, Sir, he'd give you a medal."

"Gosh."

"And Mr Carson said that, although you had always been a quiet and mellow man in his experience, you showed your true colours this evening."

"That can be taken one of two ways, Stewart."

"I believe it was meant admiringly, Sir. It was just before he took your coffee to the Library."

"Ah…Did no one express disdain concerning the match between Lady Edith and me?"

"No, Sir. Why should they?"

 _Why should they indeed_ he thought, closing his eyes and leaning back as the bracing Yorkshire night air fluttered the Rolls' soft top.

* * *

.

"He's a cripple, and he's far too old! That's why! And there's no more to be said!"

Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham let her walking stick thump to the floor with emphatic finality.

Robert and Cora looked at each other. This wasn't over yet as far as they were concerned. Violet had arrived earlier than usual for her morning coffee, displaying an unerring knack for sensing something afoot. Edith was, they assumed, upstairs waiting for Anthony to arrive. He was due in less than fifteen minutes and he was never late. They wanted this settled before Violet could launch her particularly biting form of invective on the couple.

"That can't be the whole story Mama. As I recall you were surprised at Edith's choice of Sir Anthony before the War, but not against it. Their relative ages haven't changed." Cora spoke gently but with a quiet, steely logic which Violet hated.

"You cannot seriously object to the man because of his war wound, can you Mama?" Robert was more forthright.

"It isn't a question of how he lost the use of his arm. If Edith marries him, she will be beginning her life as an old man's drudge. I think she deserves better, even if her parents do not."

"Better than the man she loves, and has loved for six years?" Cora was losing patience with the diplomatic option. "He has a title, money, and a standing in the county. I would have thought you'd be happier with Sir Anthony than with either Matthew or Tom."

"I don't suppose in three or four years Edith herself will consider a large drawing room much compensation for the lack of a...a proper husband and the children and...fulfillment...he can't give her."

Cora gasped at the viciousness of Violet's words. Robert held up his hands and began to walk out of the Library.

"That does it, Mama. I'm sorry but I can't listen to any more of your…"

Robert stopped dead when he saw that Edith and Anthony were also frozen in the doorway along with Carson who had been showing them in, all of them hearing every word of the Dowager's condemnation. All eyes watched Anthony as he struggled with the accusations he had only just conquered himself. He muttered "Excuse me" and walked away. Edith, distraught, followed him out of the front door and onto the lawn.

"How long had they been there, Carson?" Robert hissed.

"About five minutes, my lord. I'm sorry I couldn't alert you to their presence, but…"

"It's not your fault, Carson" Cora tried to soothe the butler's sense of failure.

"Perhaps I should leave" said Violet, standing, with the air of a job well done.

"Oh no you don't!" Cora's eyes were narrowed, her rage obvious. "You will stay here with us and watch the damage you have done. That's the least you deserve."

"I...I have never been spoken to like…" Violet spluttered.

"But you will be again if you continue. Now, _watch_!"

The four of them turned to the window in silence.

Anthony was facing away from the house, very straight and tall, rigid in his misery. Edith, behind him, was talking to him, tearful, despairing. She nervously put a hand on his back, but he stepped away, bowing to her in his apology. He waved a hand in the direction of the window as he answered her, causing her to wave her hands herself in response. She stepped towards him again, and this time he didn't move. As he looked up Violet saw that he was weeping. Cora reached out for Robert's hand.

Edith was obviously pleading, but all Anthony could do was to shake his head and close his eyes on his tears. Then, to everyone's shock, he knelt down in front of Edith on the grass, still looking down. When he'd finished speaking he looked up, but Edith was beside herself. She backed away, her hand to her mouth. Anthony raised his hand to her beseechingly but Edith turned and ran back into the house. Cora made a dash to try to catch her but Edith was too fast. She ran upstairs with her mother in close pursuit.

Robert and Violet stood thunderstruck as they watched the proud, brave baronet break down and cry openly, kneeling on their lawn. Finally, Robert turned briefly to his mother and pointedly said to her "Happy now?". He then took Carson outside to offer whatever assistance he could to his old friend.

* * *

.

With the help of a generous snifter of whisky, Anthony pulled himself back together. All that he would say was that he was sorry for all the upset he had caused over the last day or so and that he was sure Edith would tell them what had been decided.

"Don't take what my mother said to heart, Anthony. She can be an absolute sourpuss at times, you know that. She'll come round, just as she has with Matthew and even Tom, and the rest of us are so very glad that you and Edith are happy! Even me! Especially me! I'm sorry to say that I take after her more than I like to acknowledge sometimes, but eventually I think for myself. Is there anything I can do?"

"Really, Robert, no, thank you. There's nothing more to be said. I think I should leave and let Edith tell you her side of the story. I expect you will not wish to hear from me again when you do hear what she has to say. Carson, would you ask Stewart to bring the car round? Thank you."

Carson looked to Robert who shook his head.

"Anthony, please stay. We can work this out. You said yourself last night that we shouldn't dither and waste time."

"It's over, Robert. It's better this way."

Robert stood back.

"Do you love my daughter, Sir Anthony?"

"Oh, God, Robert!"

" _Do you_?"

"Of course I do! I love her with everything I am!"

"And she loves you?"

"Not after today…"

"I can't judge that, since you refuse to tell me what happened between you. But last night she loved you so much she was willing to walk through the gates of Downton Abbey with only the clothes she wore in order to marry you."

Anthony almost began crying again, only just holding in the sobs.

"That's all I need to know, old boy. Now go with Carson and get yourself freshened up a bit. I'll go up and see how Edith and Cora are."

* * *

.

Violet sat in the Library, alone.

Her father had been a baronet, just like Anthony. She knew that her husband's father had disapproved of the choice, and he had never relented, even when she had tried to do everything she could to please her father-in-law, to show him that she would be, was, a good Countess for him. She had never got over that disapproval. Had that been the start of her acid tongue? Had she partly based her behaviour on that shown to her? When had she stopped being the insightful, understanding woman she had once been? Long before her husband had died. It had only become more spiteful since. She used her considerable wit to attack others as a form of defence. Only now it had gone too far. Edith had been hurt. She had struck home so forcefully as to knock down, literally and figuratively, a good, honourable man, who loved her granddaughter so much he would give her up rather than hurt her.

"What have I done?"

* * *

.

Cora wiped her daughter's face with a warm cloth.

"Better?"

Edith nodded weakly.

"My brave girl. You're a Levinson and a Crawley, my darling. And soon, you'll be a Strallan, too. It will all be fine, you'll see."

"He was so...so...sure that he's ruining my life. I've spent so long trying to convince him, Mama. And then Granny kicks us back to the beginning. I don't think I can convince him again. I'm running out of fight."

There was a quiet knock at the door.

"May I come in?" asked Robert.

"Oh, Papa!" Despite herself, Edith's tears started again, dreading what her father might have to say.

"There now, shh. Anthony is being looked after by Carson. He'll be ready to see you shortly."

"He's still here?" Edith whispered, amazed.

"Of course he's still here. He can no more leave you than he could abandon Locksley."

"Thank you, Papa!"

"Now then! _Courage mon braves_! Finish up here and come downstairs. We've got a wedding to plan!"

Cora leaned to her husband.

"I love you, Robert."

He smiled, inordinately pleased, and squeezed her hand before making his way to the Library.

* * *

.

Once he'd assisted Sir Anthony to wash his face and spruce up his suit, Carson showed him back to the Library. The moment she was sure the butler had gone, Violet came out from the other room. Anthony visibly stiffened, then with enormous control, bowed politely to her.

"Sir Anthony."

"Lady Grantham."

"My father was a baronet, you know. The Crawleys disapproved of me because of it. Yet I've been a Crawley myself for fifty years now. But perhaps it is time I remembered what it felt like to be a humble baronet's daughter...and in love with a Crawley."

Anthony stared at her, not knowing what to do. Violet stepped towards him

"I owe you an apology, Sir Anthony. You would be a very great addition to this family, and a source of immense happiness to Edith, as she will be to you. I hope you will overlook my rudeness and...continue your engagement...propose to her again if need be...but marry her! Marry her and be happy! Please."

Anthony gently reached out for Violet's hand and bowed over it with the manners he'd been taught as a boy.

"Thank you, Lady Grantham."

* * *

.

Edith walked downstairs torn between hope and dread. She went straight over to the Library, and saw her grandmother, her father, and Anthony talking quietly together. Anthony saw her first and she saw his expression change, unsure himself.

"Here is the lady herself" said Robert. "We'll leave you to it." He added as he passed Edith "My darling girl". Violet put her hand on Edith's, but she said nothing. That was so unusual that it made Edith feel even more uneasy.

They were left alone.

Anthony opened his mouth, but the right words eluded him. He tried again.

"Lady Edith...Edith...please forgive me. I was taken by surprise by the force of your grandmother's objections, but now…"

"Yes?"

"...now she has apologised to me, and I can only hope that you will be able to forgive me too. I…" He knelt down once more, mirroring the position he'd taken only an hour earlier when he had begged Edith to release herself from their engagement.

"...I can never be happy ever again if you are unable to forgive me. You have given me back my life. You are my life."

Edith swallowed hard.

"Will you promise to bring this notion of yours that you don't deserve me totally under control?"

"I promise, with your help."

"You swear that you won't run off, or try to run off, like you did this morning?"

"Absolutely."

"And will you talk to me when anyone or anything makes you wonder whether I'm happy I married you?"

"I will."

"Then, yes, I forgive you."

He got to his feet.

"You'll marry me?"

"Of course I'll marry you. I love you."

He came closer, breathing heavily.

"I love you too, my dearest darling."

Unable to stay away from her any longer, he pulled her forcefully to him and kissed her again. And again.

"I'm so sorry, Edith" he breathed in her ear.

"It really wasn't your fault. Granny was being more than usually cruel."

"She was not entirely at fault either."

"She said you were impotent...in a public room!"

"Well, yes, that was the barb that struck home. The possibility had worried me as well, you see. It's been such a long time since...but in the last few days...shall we say my concerns have been laid to rest."

"Really?" She almost giggled.

"I have been having dreams about you...explicit dreams…" He seemed embarrassed and impishly twinkling at the same time. His blush was matched by hers. She seized his hand and pulled him to the Drawing Room where her parents and Granny were waiting.

"Come on! I can't wait another moment before planning this wedding so you can tell me about these dreams without shame!"


	7. Chapter 7

**_Thank you all so very much for your wonderful reviews, follows, and favourites. It warms my old heart to know that you get pleasure out of my little stories. This chapter is delayed because I've been fighting off a chest infection which has been with me for just under a month...take the advice of an old man: DON'T GET OLD! It's a bugger._**

 ** _On a happier note, Showtunesdream has rather brilliantly declared that the weekend of 18th—21st August 2017 will be ANDITH FEST! She has provided a few prompts on her tumblr account._**

 ** _Now on with the show..._**

* * *

.

Mary and Matthew's wedding day dawned bright and warm. Perfect, in fact. But that didn't bother Edith any more. Nothing seemed to bother her any more apart from how much time she would be able to spend with Anthony on any given day, preferably unchaperoned. Anthony himself still seemed embarrassed when they kissed. He thought it improper to kiss her how he really wanted to, he said, but his eyes said otherwise.

Edith wasn't a bridesmaid so she could wear whatever she wanted and Mary couldn't do a thing about it. Still, Edith's own pride stopped her from trying to upstage her sister. Deep down she still felt like the wallflower she had always been told she was. And anyway, there was only one man she wanted to impress. She chose a light blue, fitted dress, with white embroidery embellishments. Nice enough, and she hoped that Anthony would like it. The best thing about today would be being able to spend so much time as Anthony's official companion. It was the next best thing to actually getting married to him, and that would happen very soon too.

* * *

.

Stewart drew the long, wickedly sharp cut-throat razor over his master's neck with perfect expertise one final time then wrapped his face in the hot towel.

"All done, sir. I have laid your morning suit out in your dressing room, and I will be with you to assist very shortly."

"Thank you Stewart."

As he walked through from the bathroom, Anthony passed his good hand over his face rendered silken smooth by his valet's careful ministrations. Today would be the first time he and Edith would be out in public as an engaged couple. It wouldn't do to be seen unshaven or badly dressed. Not that there was the slightest possibility of either if Stewart had anything to do with it!

True to form, within twenty minutes Stewart had helped Anthony into clothes fit for the wedding of an earl's daughter.

"Have you given any thought to what you would like to wear for your own wedding, sir?"

"I thought I would wear this" Anthony blurted.

"I don't think so, sir. Not appropriate at all. Perhaps next week we could compare notes with her ladyship. Your suit should complement her dress, after all."

"Yes, you're right Stewart. Thank you for thinking of it."

"And…the honeymoon, sir?"

"Now that I do have under control, Stewart. We are going to Italy."

"An excellent choice. I hope you and Lady Edith will have the happiest of travels."

"You're coming too, Stewart!"

"Are you sure, sir?"

"I don't think I can presume that Lady Edith will help me with my socks, or…or other things."

"In that case, sir, I don't think she should presume that you will help her dress her hair…or other things."

"What?"

"She will be needing a lady's maid, sir."

"Oh, God, Stewart. What else have I forgotten?"

"If it pleases you, sir, I have made a list…" With the satisfied smile of someone who does his job extremely well, Stewart drew a large piece of folded paper from his waistcoat pocket.

And Anthony groaned.

* * *

.

She looked around the church for the umpteenth time, even though it was still fifteen minutes before the service began. Finally she saw him arrive with Stewart loyally behind him. The valet took both his own Bowler and his master's top hat and found a seat for himself in the back pews that had been reserved for guests' staff. Anthony himself was looking around. She thought she had never seen him so handsome. White tie was very formal and emphasised his height and breadth, but this was a step further. The deep blue cravat highlighted his eyes, the dark wool of the coat accentuated the blonde of his hair, the diamond cravat pin gave him the most elegant and understated touch of glamour. They way he stood, the way he held himself, spoke of his inner nobility and modesty.

Then he caught sight of her, and their eyes locked.

She was all strawberry blonde and cornflower blue. She looked like an angel. He didn't hear Lady Quantock trying to pass by him saying "excuse me. I said excuse me, young man!" He wasn't actually aware of anything else in the church but his dearest darling, his sweet one. Lady Quantock poked him with a finger, and he came back to reality with a jolt, apologising with a bow. When he looked back at Edith she was approaching him, trying to contain a giggle.

"Sir Anthony, if I didn't know better I would say that you were being driven to distraction by something, or someone!"

He took her hand and kissed it.

"You do know better, my dear. You know perfectly well that I am always driven to distraction by the sight of my fiancée, but especially today when she looks more beautiful than ever."

They smiled at each other.

Then they realised that Lady Quantock had not gone very far and was watching them both with great interest. She turned away and went to talk to the Dowager Lady Grantham with considerable interest and vivacity.

* * *

.

The wedding was lovely, and not a reminder of one's loneliness. Not at all.

Mary looked beautiful. Matthew looked as though he couldn't believe his luck. Tom looked happy to be by Matthew's side (and very uncomfortable in the morning suit Molesley had altered for him). Many of the guests watched Anthony and Edith just as much as Mary and Matthew…not that Anthony noticed. He was too busy enjoying it all. But Edith did notice and thought it was wonderful.

No more secrets.

No more disapproval.

* * *

.

The next few weeks sped by in a flurry of activity and organisation, until suddenly Edith found herself looking at her wedding dress when it arrived, two days before the ceremony.

Matthew and Mary had returned from honeymoon and appeared to be as blissful as lovebirds. Because she was happy, Mary found she had no need to be sarcastic to Edith, which in turn meant that Edith had no need to defend herself.

Stewart had quietly worked in the background, checking and rechecking the arrangements. Edith and her mother had interviewed half a dozen maids, all of them excellent. It was only when one of them had confessed to being fascinated by science and scientific instruments, in particular clocks and watches and their movements, that Edith really connected with her and she was chosen.

* * *

.

Early in the morning of his wedding, Sir Anthony Strallan awoke worrying, just as he had done ever since that day when Violet had insulted him. He hadn't lied to Edith; he knew _that_ part of his body was capable of making love to her, because that was exactly what he had done in his sleep, in his dreams, every night since meeting her again at her grandmother's.

What worried him was his arm. If they… _did it_ …(he whispered the words, even in his head)…the traditional way, he wouldn't be able to hold his weight above her very long and there was the danger that he might overbalance and crush her. Lying on her would be unbearable for her, he was too heavy. There were the more…exotic positions, but part of Anthony's male pride rebelled from those. Whatever would she think of him if he invited her to straddle him? That was the sort of thing one only expected from ladies of the night, not an earl's daughter.

Not his beautiful, chaste Edith. In his innocence he couldn't think of a solution to his problems, other than disappointment, despondence, and despair.

* * *

.

He arrived at the church at a respectable hour…not too early thanks to Stewart who stopped him leaving Locksley three hours before the ceremony. Anthony had paced around his Library for another hour and a half before Stewart felt the safety of the rugs outranked any whispers at the church about the eagerness of the groom.

Mr Travis greeted him in the asinine but well-intentioned manner of the Church of England. Mr Branson and Mr Crawley made very gentle and careful jocularity of the type traditional among brothers-in-law when they arrived without their respective wives. They would still be fluttering around his bride-to-be along with their mother. Anthony almost plucked up enough courage to ask Tom and Matthew for their advice…but he was cut off even before he started by the entry of the Dowager Countess and Mrs Crawley, bickering mildly between themselves.

This was awful. What was he going to do? Edith didn't deserve a husband who couldn't be a proper lover to her. He was hyperventilating now. He should…he should…he should just go…leave and…

"Sir?"

Anthony looked up into the strong, and yet kindly face of one of the Downton servants. Much to his annoyance, Anthony couldn't place him. He prided himself on remembering names, whether in the county, or in the army, upper-class or below stairs…always.

"Yes?"

"You won't know me, sir. I'm Bates, his Lordship's valet."

"Ah, yes. How are you? Is your lovely wife here?"

"Very well, sir, thank you. In fact it was my wife who convinced me to approach you. I hope you'll forgive any intrusion on your thoughts at this important moment, but…well, I couldn't help but notice your expression. It's an expression I know all too well, sir, from the other side."

"Really?" Anthony had no idea where this was going.

"I was wounded at Diamond Hill, in the South African War."

Anthony looked down at the cane, the man's leg, his awkward posture.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Bates" he said, and meant it.

The man shrugged without emotion, as if Anthony had expressed sympathy that he had brown hair.

"It's just that, last year, despite this" Bates motioned with his cane, "and all the other factors counting against me, a beautiful young woman insisted on marrying me. I can tell you, Sir Anthony, despite all my misgivings, there isn't a day when I am not grateful. My wife, Anna, is much like Lady Edith in that she was, and is, forthright and determined and knows what she wants. And for some reason unknown to me, she wanted me. I thank my lucky stars that she did. I thank them even more that I didn't break her heart from some feeling that I would have been a burden to her." He lowered his voice even further. "There are ways, sir, of managing. The injury doesn't have to…get in the way."

Anthony stared at the man, shocked but intrigued. But Bates was calmly returning his stare with neither subservience nor arrogance. He was possessed of a presence that inspired total confidence.

"Thank you, Mr Bates. I will not deny that I was beginning to get…cold feet."

Bates smiled understandingly.

"In my experience, sir, women have an uncanny knack of knowing how to warm cold feet." With a respectful nod, he was gone.

Anthony sat down, and waited for his bride to arrive. Stewart was an absolute treasure, but this Bates was something else. But perhaps Stewart could advise him on what Bates had mentioned. For the first time in years, Anthony felt…real hope. _There are ways, sir, of managing._

The organ began to play and everyone stood up.

* * *

.

She didn't really remember a huge amount of what happened that afternoon. There were far more people there than she remembered inviting, and she suspected that her mother and grandmother had something to do with that. The ceremony seemed to whizz past in a matter of seconds, but she plainly recalled how Anthony looked at her while he made his vows. He looked so stunningly handsome in his new morning suit, but there was something in his expression that she hadn't seen before, not really, something strong, and tender, and new, and confident.

The reception was a parade of people saying nice things to her, and sometimes to Anthony too, although there were some who didn't bother to mask their disapproval of the match. But to her relief, the occasional pointed look or difficult silence didn't seem to bother him. In fact he appeared to be trying to stall a laugh each time it happened, as though he knew something that these bigots did not.

Not a moment too soon, she and her husband… _husband! Would she ever get used to it?!_...were in the back of the Rolls with Stewart at the wheel, departing to Locksley. She snuggled into Anthony's side and closed her eyes.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.

She looked up to find him trying to keep an impish smile off his face.

"It was perfect" she sighed. "Even Mary was nice to me. That is, she said she didn't think we would ever be friends…"

"That doesn't sound too nice!" he objected.

"…but that today she wished me all the luck in the world."

"Hmm. Better, I suppose. Tom wore his morning suit again, I noticed."

"Why shouldn't he?" She closed her eyes and snuggled to him again.

"Because he didn't look happy in it at Matthew's wedding, and I should think that it all feels rather silly and pointless to someone who lives a real life."

"Have I married a socialist baronet?"

"I'm not sure. But I should like to be a realist."

"Talking of realism, I spoke to Anna a couple of days ago."

"Anna Bates?"

"Yes, yes that's the one. I'm very impressed that you remembered her name; I don't think I've told it to you more than once or twice. Anyway, you may not know but she's married to…"

"Her husband is both older than her, and bears a war wound."

Edith looked at him with a touch of suspicion.

"Yes. How did you know that? Bates doesn't often have public duties."

"He introduced himself to me before the service." His smile had disappeared, replaced by a tight-lipped shame.

"That was…well, all I can hope is that Carson didn't see him. He can be very strict about things like that."

"He came to give me a well-deserved talking to. He saw that I was beginning to think…no, I was _more than beginning_ to think that I should not burden you with my infirmities. I was actually…oh god…I was just about to jilt you, Edith. I was on the cusp of walking away from the church, breaking your heart, and dishonouring myself beyond redemption."

He gazed at her, not sure how he had got into that state, not sure how he had found the courage to confess all this to her so soon. He let her take in what he'd said. Then he continued.

"Bates read my fears, my despair. He spoke to me to steady me. It worked. And I will forever be in his debt. I'm sorry, Edith. I would have done what I promised and spoken to you about it, but my courage failed when you weren't there, and…and…"

Edith softly put her fingers on his mouth to stem the increasingly rapid breakdown.

"But you didn't. You felt all those doubts, and still married me. That's all that matters…as long as you aren't still feeling like that?"

"No, no. Bates told me his own story…his and Anna's. It put my injury, and my position, into perspective. You chose me. And I am grateful. More than grateful. I love you, so very, very much. I will never deserve you, and I never would have even if I was young and whole."

"Anthony, if you were young, I might not have trusted you enough to become fond of you. Young men have always overlooked me, remember? And as for your wound, it happened to you while you were fighting for your country. It is a reminder of your honour and bravery, as well as all the other things that I've heard you call it. I wish it hadn't happened to you, but it did. We will learn to live with it. Which is what I was trying to tell you about Anna. She has shown me some literature about…about how to cope with a war wound within marriage." She cast her eyes briefly towards Stewart. "I'll tell you more when we get home."

 _There are ways, sir, of managing._

* * *

.

 _ **Did you spot the deliberate crossover reference? Of course you did!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**The deliberate crossover was, of course, COLD FEET! I didn't think I had hidden it all that well, so thank you to everyone who boosted my ego by claiming not to have seen it.**_

 _ **Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed, followed and favourited. Your support has kept me going through some very difficult times recently. Truly Andith shippers are the very best.**_

 _ **LONG LIVE ANDITH!**_

* * *

.

" _Anthony, if you were young, I might not have trusted you enough to become fond of you. Young men have always overlooked me, remember? And as for your wound, it happened to you while you were fighting for your country. It is a reminder of your honour and bravery, as well as all the other things that I've heard you call it. I wish it hadn't happened to you, but it did. We will learn to live with it. Which is what I was trying to tell you about Anna. She has shown me some literature about…about how to cope with a war wound within marriage." She cast her eyes briefly towards Stewart. "I'll tell you more when we get home."_

Home. She called Locksley 'home'. As naturally as you please, as though she felt like she had lived there all her life. It brought tears to his eyes, and a vast pride to his chest. At least he had given her that. He had made Locksley a safe haven from her family and all the world. Thank God he could provide something for her.

 _There are ways, sir, of managing._

She had talked to Anna who had talked to her husband, perhaps, although she probably didn't need to, then Anna had advised Edith on those 'ways'. Then Bates had seen him on the brink of disaster in the church and with his wife's encouragement had come to steel Anthony's nerve. God bless them both. He would certainly show them his appreciation when he could. Anthony felt humbled that Edith, and these members of her family's staff whom he had never really met before, had cared about Edith's and his happiness enough to go out of their way to advise and support them. It wasn't something he was used to. His whole life had been filled with duty and propriety and expectation due to his position, and he hoped that he had come up to the mark and earned whatever respect was shown to him, but kindness? Hardly.

* * *

.

For some time, Anthony had suspected that Stewart was some kind of supernatural being, seemingly able to be in two or more places at once and reading minds as if they were laid out in front of him. The man surely had magical powers.

Stewart held the Rolls door as Anthony and Edith alighted at the front door of Locksley. They thanked Stewart for his support then he took the car round to the garages. They had paused only long enough to tease each other gently about whether perhaps Anthony could carry his new bride over the threshold with a fireman's lift, and then decide at last to jump over it together holding hands, but there, within the space of only a few minutes, he was! Stewart was in the hallway to welcome his master and new mistress holding a silver salver bearing two flutes of Champagne. _How did he do it?_

But Anthony couldn't be bothered to think about his butler's astounding abilities, not just now. His wife… _his wife…Dear God she really was_ …was sipping the golden wine and watching him flirtatiously over the rim of her glass. It was having the most remarkable effect on him. It couldn't be the wine causing his blood to rush and his breath to hitch, because he hadn't even tasted his own drink. He swallowed hard, felt in need of liquid courage, and downed the bubbly in one.

"Will you be needing me further, sir?"

Anthony had to shake his head to drag his eyes away from Edith's.

"What? Oh, no. No, thank you, Stewart. That'll be all. Thank you for everything."

"My pleasure, sir. My lady. Congratulations again to you both." Stewart bowed graciously and faded away.

And with that, they were alone.

* * *

.

She had tried, really she had, to flirt, to make eyes at him, to encourage him, to let him know that she wanted this, wanted him. But she had probably just come across as making silly faces and gurning at him. Mary was the expert flirt; Edith was the awkward wallflower. To her dismay, he looked confused, and a bit worried, probably wondering whether the woman he had married was slightly mad. And now the servants had gone she was seized by her usual shyness. What if she made a mess of…of trying to be a wife to him, like she usually did with everything? She tried to take a little more wine to steady her, but there was none left and she realised that she looked foolish slurping at the empty glass. Anthony turned his back to her, and her heart fell.

"Let me top you up" he said quietly, turning back to her with the bottle.

"Um…thank you." She'd never needed the warmth provided by the Champagne as much as she did then.

"A little Dutch courage?" he asked mildly.

"No!…I…it's just that…"

"You're nervous, I can tell." Anthony's voice went straight to her heart without touching her ears. Such a lovely voice, gentle and comforting, just like its owner. _Oh God, let me please him, let me comfort and reassure him. Please, please, please!_

She nodded silently and took a little more wine as he turned away to put the bottle back on the table, and spoke facing away from her.

"So am I. Very. I am still so scared that I won't be able to be what you want me to be, Edith. Whatever it is that Mrs Bates has told you, I do so hope….I'll be able to make it all right."

She could hear the catch in his voice.

Love flooded her, forcing all other emotions into second place. In that moment she knew without doubt that this was the "mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity" that melded them so firmly together with or without the formal vows they had taken less than eight hours before. They both had a deep need of the confidence of the other. She had promised to provide it for him, all her life, and she _wanted_ to offer it to him, now and forever.

She put down the glass and stroked her hands down his arms, then hugging him with her head resting on his back she said "Anthony, my darling, there's nothing, _nothing_ you can do, tonight or ever, that could stop you being the man I love. You already are the man I want you to be. Because no matter what happens, I love you because you are you."

He turned, a sad smile playing on his lips.

"But you shouldn't have to settle for only that. I don't want to be just that. I want…" He paused, willing the whispered words out. "…I want to be your lover."

That took her breath away. During their engagement he had hinted that he wanted more than he would allow them before marriage. She had fervently hoped that he meant what she wanted him to mean. But here was the first real evidence of his…his… _desire_.

"Oh Anthony! I want that too!" But her eagerness only made him doubt more. He was beginning to lose it again, just as he had in the church. She heard the desperation in his hushed wail.

"But I'm not absolutely sure that I can?! What did Mrs Bates tell you? Will it help, do you think?"

She didn't know where the courage came from (the Champagne perhaps, but also the quiet strength she had seen in Anna's eyes), but she took a steadying breath, looked up at him from under her eyelids, licked her lips, and said "It would be easier…just to show you."

She held out her hand to him. Though still concerned, his frayed nerves had been soothed enough by her obvious confidence in him for him to take it firmly and together they walked upstairs to their bedroom.

Despite her boldness she felt rattled. Anthony, she realised, was on a knife edge. What happened tonight would colour his judgement of whether he had made a mistake or not, a mistake that he believed _she_ would pay for…

 _That was it._ In a moment of searing anguish, it all suddenly became clear to her. The nightmares, the shell shock, the responsibility of rank…making decisions that _other people paid the price for_ …whether it be marriage…or giving orders to go Over The Top and face death… Her eyes clouded, her chest tight.

She watched him close the bedroom door after them, then turn and walk towards her, body tense, eyes burning. She placed her hands softly on his chest and waited for him to look at her.

"This is my choice, Anthony. I'm a grown woman and I have the right to make my own decisions and to accept the rewards and consequences of those decisions. Whatever we face from this moment on, we face it together. I love you. I want you. I want to share my life with you, and that means sharing duties and responsibilities as well. We will build our life together. You are not alone anymore."

It was exactly what he needed to hear. He could feel his soul beginning to glue itself back together again. Without the intervention of his sense of propriety, he began to weep like a little boy with the relief of it, hugging her close.

"I love you, Edith. I love you so much."

"Anthony."

He kissed her neck gratefully at first, then more tenderly, then more passionately. She felt the atmosphere change and thanked her lucky stars that she seemed to have said the right thing.

And she kissed him back.

* * *

.

Lady Quantock never called on the Dowager Lady Grantham. Violet couldn't remember her ever coming either to the Abbey or the Dower House before. Yet here she was making small talk and devouring a very large number of sandwiches and cakes and a huge quantity of tea.

In between mouthfuls she was boasting of her son.

"Of course my big news is that Gerald was returned to The House last spring. I think he will make an admirable MP."

"Your son certainly seems to think he will be a great success. Does he see the Commons as a sort of training ground for the Lords? He will take his seat after Charles dies, won't he?" Violet asked politely, wondering when this insufferable woman would get around to what she came for.

"Of course, though naturally I don't like to think of that sad and, hopefully, far off time. Charles has been a wonderful husband. Which reminds me…"

 _Ah, here it comes at last!_ Violet's smile settled with pleasure. _This is going to be fun._

"How is your charming granddaughter?"

"Lady Mary is enjoying married life very much I believe. Mr Crawley was an unconventional choice, but at least he is the heir apparent, and it will be very useful to have a lawyer in the family."

"Er no, no. The _other_ granddaughter."

"Lady Sybil? She is expecting my first great-grandchild. We are all very excited. I do hope she comes home from Dublin for the delivery."

"No, no, no! The _other, other_ granddaughter."

"Lady Strallan?"

" _Yes_."

Thoroughly enjoying herself, Violet replied "She has the happiest marriage of all of us. Her husband is the most uxorious man I have ever met, and she cherishes him to the moon and back. Their happiness was hard won and thoroughly deserved."

Lady Quantock looked for all the world like a clipper with the wind taken out of her sails.

"Oh."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they provide Robert and Cora with their next grandchild."

"Really?! Despite…?"

"Oh yes indeed! You see, my dear, Anthony is brave, patient, and loving, and a very determined man and _where_ _there's a will, there's lots of ways!"_

Much to Violet's satisfaction, Lady Quantock choked on her tea.


End file.
